


Stage Four: Fix it With Math

by Kitchyy



Series: The Seven Stages of Rodney's Coming Out Process [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: DADT, Dreams, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Really bad date, Season/Series 03, Therapy, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:03:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/839777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitchyy/pseuds/Kitchyy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rodney finds something out about his closest friend that changes him in ways he can't quantify.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stage Four: Fix it With Math

**Stage Four: Fix it With Math**  
  
"You know, it's really good to see you," Rodney says with a wistful smile as he takes a seat across from her. "I know it's been a while since we've made the time like this. Things are just so busy around here, you know?"  
  
She tucks a lock of blonde hair behind her ear as her lips curve in a warm smile. Rodney likes it when she smiles like that. "I know. It's a busy place, especially for someone like you. It's been, what, a month?"  
  
"Closer to two, I think," he replies thoughtfully.  
  
"So, how have you been?" Heightmeyer asks. Down to business, then. Rodney's always liked that about her. "How have you been sleeping?"  
  
Rodney shrugs and breaks eye contact. "Things are well enough, not so great with the sleeping though, now that you mention it."  
  
"Nightmares?" She asks with sympathy. A lot of people here have them. With all the things everyone on this expedition has experienced in the last three years, Rodney wouldn't be surprised if a large percentage of her docket is filled with people who simply can't sleep.  
  
"No, just... doing a lot of thinking," he admits.  
  
"What kinds of things have you been thinking about that won't let you sleep?" She asks curiously.  
  
Rodney shrugs. "Relationships, mostly."  
  
Heightmeyer writes something down and Rodney shifts in his seat. "Are you thinking about the generic or the romantic?"  
  
"Well, romantic." Rodney breathes in, holds it in his chest for a moment and then speaks very quickly. He needs to get it all out. "I've been thinking about the romantic relationships I've had in the past, and what could be in store for me in the future, which isn't looking as hopeful as I once thought."  
  
Heightmeyer raises a single golden brow. "How so?"  
  
It seems like such an innocent question. Rodney taps the armrest of his chair with anxious fingers. "Well, here's how I'm looking at it: if I take all the girls I've dated and use that as a projection for the future, and I'm what, 34 now? That means by the time I'm dead I will have a crushingly large number of angry ex girlfriends hoping for my demise."  
  
There's a small dent between her brows as she looks him over. "Is it the number of exes that keeps you up or the fact that the relationships failed?" She asks.  
  
"What? Both!" Rodney snorts. "Didn't I say it was a crushingly large number? I mean, if we're talking atmosphere's of pressure, I'd be the size of a coffee cup by now."  
  
"Was it anything in specific that brought all this on?"  
  
Rodney folds his arms against his chest and takes in the view of Atlantis through her office window. His right foot bounces. He always feels intensely vulnerable when he talks about these things. "I tried going on a date."  
  
Heightmeyer smiles encouragingly. Rodney feels like he's being pat on the head for drawing a picture that vaguely resembles a dog. "That's good, Rodney. It means you're finally getting comfortable enough to reach out and start forming healthy, lasting relationships. How did it go?"  
  
Rodney's eyes slide away from hers again. "It was... good. I guess."  
  
He can hear her writing something else down. He hates it when she writes things down. "In what way?"  
  
"Everything was fine. She was nice, the view over the south balcony was nice, the conversation was good, too, even if we did talk mostly about hippy science. It just wasn't... Memorable."  
  
"Well, it's possible you and her simply didn't have the right chemistry." Heightmeyer puts her pen down then looks at him for a moment. She's beautiful. Rodney suspects that's one of the many reasons he sees her. It's hard enough getting these thoughts out of his brain. If he's getting help from a beautiful, confident, intelligent woman, it tends to make things marginally less painful.  
  
"A lot of people in your age group start to think about their futures outside of their careers, especially if they're single, like you are now. Settling down is something people want to do; make family groups, find someone to share their lives with. You're expanding on your personal life, and that's a good thing. You're allowed to feel good about that."  
  
Rodney's mouth tightens. "But the same problems keep surfacing no matter the person. That's what I'm struggling with here." He tries very hard to make it not sound whiny and he's not sure if he succeeds.  
  
Heightmeyer shrugs. "Maybe you're looking for a lasting relationship with the wrong types of people. Can you think of any traits or similarities these people you've dated have in common?"  
  
"Perhaps that they're all female?" It's out before he has the time to filter it. His mouth snaps shut with an audible click and Heightmeyer is sitting there, eyes wide and pen frozen a few inches above her tablet.  
  
Rodney's starting to panic. He knows she's going to take this and run with it and he really doesn't want to hear the conversation he knows she's going to push for. "Rodney-"  
  
"I'm not gay!" He snaps. Because he isn't.  
  
"Rodney, listen to-"  
  
"I've never even kissed a guy before!" He can feel the need to nervously babble rising up and he has to get it under control. He can't do that when he isn't sure what's going to come out next.  
  
"Rodney?" She asks patiently.  
  
"What?"  
  
She reaches out to squeeze his hand, and it helps calm him down minutely. "I wasn't going to imply that you were. I was simply going to ask what made you think of that trait in particular?" She says it so rationally, so calmly that Rodney relaxes a little more.  
  
This isn't how he saw this meeting going in his head. Rodney gets up from the chair and starts to pace. "This is confidential right? Of course it is, or else I wouldn't be here in the first place. Although taking notes on this probably wouldn't be a good idea since any average Atlantis laptop is only double encrypted and if the right person got a hold of it, which is over half the expedition, it would only take half an hour to break the code. Maybe I can beef up the encryption for you. It would only take a day - well, two, tops-"  
  
"Rodney?" Heightmeyer asks. He knows that tone of voice, she's trying to get him to focus.  
  
Rodney stops pacing, closes his eyes and chooses his words very carefully. He doesn't want to out John, even to Heightmeyer. Especially not Heightmeyer. "Look, about a month ago, a friend of mine, a North American military friend, the faction with all the Don't Ask Don't Tell rules - which I would just like to add, is an asinine rule to live by, told me about their... sexual preferences." Rodney stops and breathes for a moment, then tries to gather his thoughts. "I've never actually had a gay friend before," he admits, and damn, that shouldn't sound as sad as it does, but there it is. "I don't know how to act and things keep popping up inside my head when I'm around this person."  
  
Heightmeyer looks concerned and watches his face intently. If she wasn't his therapist he'd be flattered with all that attention. Here, it makes him feel as if he's being dissected. "Are you bothered by what they've told you?"  
  
"What? Of course not! Just surprised. And a little hurt they felt they couldn't trust me with this. I mean, we've known each other since before we left for Atlantis." Which is true for over half of the expedition.  
  
Has he said too much? He runs his commentary over in his head, analyzing statements, seeing if she could figure out who it could be. He's sure there's nothing she can use to figure out that it's John. Still, talking about this makes him scared, well, not scared so much as... concerned. He doesn't know how to articulate that without sounding like some backwater ignorant.  
  
Heightmeyer looks thoughtfully at him for a long time. "It's possible one of the reasons you're thinking about your past girlfriends is because you're trying to figure out how their relationships might work and have worked in the past. If this person is, as you say, one of the North American soldiers, that means they need to keep very quiet about who they find an interest in, whereas yours can be public."  
  
"Oh please, that's... actually... quite ingenious," he says with a thoughtful frown. So he might feel like this because he's trying to understand John more, and instead of observing like a proper scientist, he's going through files of information that's only relevant to him and coming up short. It's definitely a possibility.  
  
Or at least part of one.  
  
"So why then, if mine are always out in the open and I'm able to love whomever I choose, it still doesn't work?" Rodney asks. There's an ache in his chest he refuses to put an emotion to.  
  
Heightmeyer puts the pen down again and steeples her fingers. "I think what you need to do is start looking at the people you've dated and the reasons why the relationships ended. Think of it like a math problem, if that helps," she says with a smile. Rodney rolls his eyes. "You might be surprised at what you find."  
  
Rodney holds back a sigh. He was worried she would say something like that.  
  
***  
  
  
He tries to take Heightmeyer's advice about a few things. First, try to go on a date with someone he usually wouldn't. It isn't exactly what she said, but he's using it as a blueprint. The girls he dated before don't work for him, ergo, he needs to find a different kind of girl to date.  
  
So, here Rodney is with one of the marines. Her name is Alice Santos, she was born in New Mexico, her dad runs a garage in Arizona, she loves cats, which is a plus, and she's pretty funny, too. She was at the table when Cadman waved him over the other day at lunch and refused to take no for an answer when Rodney tried to slink away. They had a not completely ridiculous conversation, so Rodney put his second thoughts aside and asked her to spend the afternoon with him on next rest day.  
  
They leave the mess after a light lunch. Alice pulls him aside and into one of the many random alcoves the Ancients loved so much. "How about we make these coffees a little more Irish?" She says with a gleam in her brown eyes and pulls a flask from God only knows where.  
  
Well, she was funny until now. She looks like she means business and wags the flask between her fingers. "It's two in the afternoon!" Rodney covers the mouth of his coffee cup with his hand. If there's an emergency he refuses to explain to Weir that he can't help because he got drunk with a marine.  
  
"Spoilsport." She puts a dollop of strong smelling Irish whiskey in her coffee and takes a sip. "Ah, much better." She sighs in bliss, then smiles at him. "So, where are you taking me? Somewhere mysterious?" She waggles her eyebrows.  
  
He had found an observatory at the bottom floor of the east pier a few weeks ago. The walls are completely glass and they can look out through the ocean for miles. When he mentions this her smile fades. "So... you want to look at fish?"  
  
"Is that so bad?"  
  
She grabs Rodney's hand and turns them towards the armory. His adrenaline spikes like it can only do on missions fraught with imminent death. "How about this, we fire off a few rounds, then find a stack of hay to make out in."  
  
Rodney looks at her like she's suddenly grown two heads. "Stack of hay?"  
  
Alice smiles with a dangerous edge. "You can fly a puddle jumper, right?"  
  
"Yes, but not for joy riding." There's no way he's going to radio Sheppard or Weir to ask about a jumper so he can show off his mediocre flying skills to a date that likes to drink while shooting things. He would never live it down if anyone found out, and someone always finds out on Atlantis. There's only so many people, and all of them like to talk.  
  
Alice seems undaunted. "We'll just have to find a different kind of haystack then."  
  
Rodney scrambles to put a lid on his coffee cup one-handed as she pulls him along. He has a sinking suspicion that asking Alice on a date may have been a little... Hasty.  
  
***  
  
  
The door slams shut behind Rodney and he presses his back against it, his chest is heaving. "If anyone asks you never saw me."  
  
John, reclining on his sofa, calmly looks over the edge of his book. He acts like it's completely normal for Rodney to come bursting through his door out of breath and in a panic. Rodney needs to learn how to do that, the whole calm in the face of danger thing could have been a big help an hour ago. "Did anyone see you come into my quarters?" He asks patiently.  
  
Rodney doesn't remember. He just knows he was running a lot. "I don't think so."  
  
"Then I never saw you." John lifts his book back up and Rodney slides slowly to the floor. Today has not gone the way he had hoped.  
  
John eventually lowers his book again. "Something wrong?"  
  
"I went on a date."  
  
John looks him over critically. "Looks like you just ran from a Wraith."  
  
Rodney grimaces. "I think the only difference between my date and a Wraith is that the Wraith would kill me marginally faster on purpose."  
  
John mirrors his grimace, but Rodney suspects deep down he's amused. "That bad, huh?"  
  
Rodney nods and rubs at his temples. "She thought drinking and guns are a match made in heaven."  
  
The room is quiet for a good few seconds, and then John asks, "did you try dating one of the marines?"  
  
Rodney cocks his head to the side. "Possibly. Why?"  
  
John chuckles, gets up from the couch and to his visible bar fridge where he pulls out a bottle of water, then hands it to Rodney. "That explains the look of utter fear on your face. Do yourself and your team a favor and try not to date them until you get to know them when they're off duty. I really don't feel like scraping you off the bottom of another ocean floor if the date goes bad."  
  
The water is so cold and refreshing it makes Rodney light-headed. He drinks half the bottle in one go. "I'll try to keep that in mind," he mutters.  
  
The room is quiet, and the sunset streaming through the open windows makes the room feel serene. It's so peaceful after the craziness of this afternoon. John's living space is striped in reds and golds, Rodney watches the dust motes swirl lazily through the patches of fading sunlight.  
  
He wonders if it will always be like this for him. If dating will always be a struggle. He's curious if John has ever had it this bad, if he's ever found someone he was interested in only to find they don't fit in every way imaginable. "Is it ever this complicated with you?" He asks quietly.  
  
John goes very still. "It's complicated all the time. Even now... just for different reasons."  
  
He's saying something else with that sentence and Rodney's irritated by it. Why can't people say what they mean and leave it at that? He watches John's hand slide over the book's surface, the quiet whisper of a turning page mixes with the ever-present crashing of distant waves and Rodney watches the way the warm light hits his wrist, the shimmer of tendon and muscle under the skin. He's captivated by his fine wrist hairs and in what direction they grow.  
  
Rodney catches himself looking, feels his stomach flutter and tighten up everything inside. His palms are suddenly sweaty. It's fight or flight all over again and Rodney only knows self-defense. "Thanks for hiding me. I think enough time has passed. I'll just... You know."  
  
As the door swishes shut he hears John say, "Any time, Rodney."  
  
***  
  
All Rodney wants to do is sleep. With the stress he's dealt with today, his rest day hasn't felt all that restful. He decides to do something relaxing, so he takes a long, hot shower, and that helps with the knotted muscles - the showers on Atlantis are great, fifteen spray jets from all different directions, and the temperature is perfect because it responds to his mind. That's never going to get old.  
  
After that, he goes into his tiny kitchenette, finds the tea Teyla gave him but hasn't tried yet. She said something about it helping with dreams or sleep, and that's good enough for Rodney. He makes a cup on the hot plate he has in his room. As the tea steeps he breathes in the steam. It smells like peppermint and jasmine and something he's never smelled before, but it's rich and fragrant, no citrus at all.  
  
Then he settles into bed with a few of the 'new physics' papers that came from Earth in the last databurst. It's amazing how people can get things so wrong and still think they're right. He has a good laugh, drinks the rest of the tea, and doesn't think about John or Alice at all as he's finally lulled into peaceful slumber.  
  
  
***  
  
  
In Rodney's dream he's standing on the north pier looking out at the ocean. Something far in the distance moves, but he can't make it out. As they get closer the telltale sound buzzes around him, like angry bees but lower, more intimidating. Fear prickles at the back of his neck. Darts are coming closer and he's trying hard to run to the tower, to let everyone know about the danger, but his legs won't move. He's stuck in place and all he can do is look on helplessly as they fly overhead-  
  
And keep flying as if they never saw the city at all. The cloak must be on! He sighs in relief and he feels a pat on the back. He turns to see who it is. the light changes direction, the salt air dissipates to a familiar smell of stale coffee, heavily perfumed pot-pourri and cooking spaghetti. He's in his parents house, he's sixteen again and his dad is there patting him on the back for passing his driving test with flying colors. "It was surprisingly simple," Rodney grins.  
  
His father smiles, but it's small and stingy. "Remember, not everything will be this easy." Yeah, yeah, Rodney's heard that one before. His dad is never happy with all the accomplishments he's achieved. There's always something to nitpick.  
  
Rodney's annoyed and turns from his father. He's an adult now, he doesn't have to hear this anymore. He feels the room change again. He blinks rapidly as his eyes focus. He's in Atlantis but it's during their first few days here, he recognizes the stale, mildew smell. They've barely set up the naqada generators, he's in his newly self appointed lab and lights are flashing. Something is very wrong. He runs to the nearest station, and as he goes over the readouts he finds out that the power distribution system is failing. He must work fast to get it running properly again. "Miller? Zelenka?" He calls but there's no answer. "Where is everyone!" He shouts. It echoes through distant, empty rooms.  
  
He feels the city inside his head, a calming, peaceful presence telling him where the power must go, but no matter how Rodney manipulates the system there simply isn't enough. the lights flicker and Rodney is suddenly very, very scared. He doesn't want to be alone in the dark in a city he doesn't know yet. "Please, baby, please, just work for me, will you!"  
  
The lights flicker one last time and Rodney starts to panic, like six years old lost at the PNE surrounded by crowds of strangers kind of panic, and as the lights go out Rodney finds a wall, a table, anything to ground him in the darkness.  
  
"It's the scariest story I've ever heard." A light flicks on, his first girlfriend, Gina, is sitting across from him with a flashlight held to her chin and he's maybe fourteen. He remembers this vacation, his and Gina's family went camping in the Okanagan, the interior of British Columbia and he kissed her under the exact same tree they're sitting under, possibly this exact same night. "Two negatives shouldn't be able to create a positive. Have you ever heard of two wrongs making a right?"  
  
"What?" Rodney shakes his head. "They're just two of the same, that's all. Who said anything about that being wrong?"  
  
Gina sighs, exasperated. "Sometimes, you just don't get it, McKay."  
  
Rodney rolls his eyes. "Apparently not. You know what would be nice? If _you_ made sense," he replies sounding petulant, snappy and very, very young.  
  
Gina stands up, looking stung. "Whatever,  _Meredith_. I'm going home."  
  
Rodney stands and follows after her. That isn't how this evening went. He was supposed to trip over his words, she was supposed to laugh and try to kiss him on the cheek, and then he would turn at the last minute and kiss her by accident. "I'm sorry, ok? I didn't mean it. Well, not totally, anyways. Just - come back!" Rodney tries to chase after her through the trees, but she's gone. He stops to catch his breath, but the air isn't hot and dry any longer, it doesn't have the taste of ripe fruit and young memories.  
  
It's cold and dark, here. He's afraid to open his eyes for a moment. When he does, he's himself again, standing in the observatory under the east pier. The windows are floor to ceiling, easily twelve feet high and the room is lit with soft lights that accentuate the deep blues of the ocean. Shadows of great swimming things pass by. It's too dark to see them properly.  
  
Rodney is both enthralled and terrified at the things that swim in the deep.  
  
"I wonder what it would look like if all those things got to see the light of day," John says softly. Rodney turns and finds John standing beside him, hands on his hips and watching the show with Rodney. "They might even look pretty."  
  
Rodney scoffs. "Some things are meant to live in the dark, Colonel. You ever think of that?"  
  
John turns and smiles at him. It's the one Rodney doesn't know the meaning to, the one that makes him annoyed. "Maybe they live here because they're afraid of the light, not because they're supposed to live in the dark."  
  
Then John's hand slides over his neck, into his hair and pulls Rodney in close, enough to feel the heat from his skin and the smell of his clothing. Jesus, his hands are big. He has strong hands that hold Rodney in place, and John is so close he can see the flecks of grey in his eyes.  
  
"I'm not supposed to do this," Rodney whispers.  
  
"People aren't supposed to do a lot of things, Rodney."  
  
John's mouth brushes his, a light, tentative kiss. Rodney's heart and lungs fill with fear, it makes him breathe faster, makes his heart pump hard and hot under his breastbone. Rodney doesn't want soft. He wants heat and depth and more. He deepens the kiss, wraps his arms around his slim, toned waist and pushes John up against the window.  
  
He's terrified like he is of the swimming things, only this time it's because he's kissing John.  
  
"Oh God, Rodney..." John growls, actually growls into Rodney's ear and wow, does he ever like the way his name sounds when John says it like that.  
  
All he can smell is John's skin and sweat and musk, and his taste takes over the corners of Rodney's mouth. It's dizzying to be surrounded by so much man, to have a male mouth trace the tendon in his neck with his teeth. He knows he should like girls, he can feel the tickle of that thought in the back of his head, but it's overpowered with how good this feels. It's liberating, touching John like this, and Rodney smooths his hands over the wings of John's shoulder blades, the dip at the small of his back, the rippled line of ribs. Every touch is new and thrilling, but nothing compares to John's mouth against his.  
  
John's hands slide from his neck, over his shoulders, down to his ass, squeezes and then brings his hips forward. Rodney is hard and he twitches impossibly harder when their hips grind together. He can feel how hard John is under his BDU's, Rodney swallows down his insecurities and  _moans right into his mouth_.  
  
He wants to feel more, needs to feel it - he jams a leg between John's, grabs his hips and they thrust against each other, and Rodney thinks, Finally, Oh Jesus, Finally...  
  
"Oh my God..." Rodney gasps and blinks awake in his dark bedroom. His dick is hard and he's incredibly close. His hands feel thick and clumsy as they wrap around his cock, and it's only a few quick pulls, then Rodney is coming, Oh, damn,  _oh fuck_  - he's coming so hard he can't even breathe when the first shot hits the bed. The orgasm lasts, drawn out and almost painful, and when he's done, Rodney feels like his brain just shot through his dick.  
  
And he dreamt of John when it happened.  
  
"Damn it, this is not-" He says into the darkness and scrubs a rough hand through his hair. This isn't supposed to happen. John is his friend. How can he think these things, dream these things and then look him in the face the next time they meet?  
  
Rodney's never even been attracted to men like this before, this seething, overwhelming need. He doesn't want this at all. He doesn't like muscles and hairy flat chests and hard cock.  
  
_But if it's John's chest, and John's muscles_... Some traitorous part of his mind whispers. Impossibly, his limp cock twitches, and that shouldn't happen either. And just...  
  
"...Fuck," he whispers brokenly.


End file.
